


i don't care (no shut up really i don't)

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash, Shopping for Food, Strawberries, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, i wish i knew, this is some soft nonsense again, when will i write these two a longer piece?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: Well, sure, obviously Zoro would die for any one of his nakama without a second thought, but that doesn't mean he wants them to hear him bragging about them.





	i don't care (no shut up really i don't)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this little vignette out of my head - it's my headcanon that Zoro brags about his nakama pretty constantly but never where any of them can hear him. They can't KNOW he cares. That'd just be silly. Obviously.
> 
> Anywhere here's a quick thing to get that headcanon onto paper.

Sanji’s got a basket hooked under one arm, the fresh aromas of the open air market settling in his blood with every breath he takes. He should be able to make something amazing with all these fresh ingredients.

He’s mentally tallying the others’ favorite foods, making sure to feature each in his mental menu as he picks out fresh vegetables for that night’s dinner, when he sees a familiar shock of green hair bobbing among the crowd ahead of him.

Damn it, Zoro. There’s no way his idiot Marimo – er, their idiot Marimo – isn’t going to get hopelessly lost in this crowd.

Sanji huffs and weaves through the market after him. He’ll just have to drag Zoro shopping with him. He’d make the idiot carry the basket. It’d make him good for something, at least.

“Absolutely not!” crowed a voice, breaking through the babble of the crowd. “I’m the world’s most renowned chef, after all! An artist! People wait _decades_ to just be able to smell my cooking through the door! I don’t just _give_ it away! These samples are for _viewing only_!”

Sanji pauses, raising an eyebrow. He digs a cigarette out of his pocket. The man shouting is short, squat, with an unpleasant expression on his face. He’s dressed head to toe in chef’s whites, crisply pressed and blindingly clean.

Sanji lights the cigarette and takes a calming drag as the man continues to shout at passersby.

“This is the opportunity of a lifetime!” the man squeaks at a passing woman, who jumps at his sudden shout, clearly startled. “People kill to get a seat at my restaurant!”

A small child steps forward hesitantly, eyeing the man’s display of delicious looking treats.

The man scowls at her. “Oi! Get out of here, you little gutter snipe!”

Sanji bites down on the cigarette as his jaw clenches in hot irritation. The child is clearly hungry – her eyes haven’t left the platter of treats, despite the man’s harsh words.

He’s about to step forward when, to his surprise, Zoro beats him to it.

He stops, switching the basket to his other arm, and watches, invisible among the market crowd.

Zoro has an orange in his hand and he’s handing it to the little girl, who stares up at him with a wide-eyed expression on her thin face. She snatches the orange out of his hand like she thinks he’s going to yank it away again, clutching it close to her chest and darting away into the crowd.

Zoro watches her go, tracking her with his eyes until she disappears. Then Zoro's eyes slide to the man and his expression flattens out into a look that Sanji recognizes.

Sanji’s lips twitch.

"You made this?" Zoro rumbles and a few people stop, craning their necks to see what’s going on. Zoro’s a sight among these people, after all, with his height and his bright hair and the three swords strapped casually to his waist.

The man puffs out his chest. "Finest food in all the seas!"

Clearly, he thinks he’s got a paying customer here to fawn over his food, which is laughable, since Sanji’s never known Zoro to fawn over food at all. Other than a grunt here or there when he finds a meal particularly tasty, Zoro treats food as fuel, nothing more, no matter what Sanji seems to put in front of him.

Which is… not frustrating at all. Obviously. Sanji gives exactly zero shits what kind of food Zoro likes.

Obviously.

Zoro plucks up one of the little tarts and pops it into his mouth.

He chews once and then frowns. Chews once more. Frowns deeper. He swallows the bite.

Then he says, quietly, but enough that his voice carries - "if I didn't know what a crime it would be to waste food, I'd have spit that shit out in a heartbeat."

The chef looks appalled and Sanji's heart does a strange little thump in his chest.

"That's disgusting," Zoro complains, stretching his arms above his head casually. "Greatest chef on the seas? Don't make me laugh. I travel with the best chef on the seas and let me tell you, he was probably cookin' better tarts than that at age five.”

The man's face has gone ghastly pale and Sanji can hardly believe the words coming out of Zoro's mouth. It's positively verbose for someone who chooses his words so carefully.

But now Zoro's leaning in close, right in the man's face. "But those're edible and you know what? These kids roaming around this market would probably love them. So quit acting like an elitist piece of shit and feed some hungry children."

There's a click as Zoro's thumb unsheathes an inch or so of Wado and the man squeaks in terror.

"Take it, take it!" he howls and stumbles backwards, scampering into the tent behind him.

Zoro smirks and lets his hand fall away from the sword. He picks up the tray and turns around, scanning the crowd. Sanji can see the moment his eyes fall on the girl with the orange because the corner of his mouth turns up. The people part to allow Zoro to hand the tray to the little girl, who takes it with huge round eyes.

"Go crazy, kid," Zoro says and the little girl barely hesitates before cramming one of the tarts into her mouth.

Zoro turns away without another word, and as the crowd dissipates, murmuring, Sanji lets his cigarette fall from his lips and stubs it out with his toe.

Zoro spots him then and Sanji watches his face go from content to horrified in a split second.

"Shit," Zoro mutters, hand going up to scrub at his hair. "How much of that did you see?"

Sanji smirks. "Enough."

"Shit. You ain't ever gonna let me live that down are you?"

And Sanji hesitates. He feels warm, from his fingertips to his toes, and for once, he doesn't want to ruffle Zoro’s feathers. Not after that display. Not after Zoro’d smiled, crooked and soft, at that little girl as he handed her an entire tray of tarts.

“ _Greatest chef on the seas? Don’t make me laugh._ ”

Instead, he holds out the basket. "Carry this. Make yourself useful, Marimo, and help me pick out ingredients."

Zoro studies him and Sanji wonders what he sees in his face because Zoro wordlessly takes the basket and slings it over one forearm. He stands there, awaiting instruction.

The crowd flows around them, giving them both a wider than normal berth.

Sanji jerks his head at a nearby fruit stand. "Strawberries?"

The corner of Zoro's mouth curves upwards. "My favorite."

"I know," Sanji says simply and together they head for the stand.

And if Sanji steps a little too close to Zoro as they walk? Well, the market is busy and there’s not a lot of room along the pathways.

And if Zoro understands the _thank you_ that Sanji can’t quite figure out how to put into words... well, he doesn’t mention a thing about it.

Between them, they fill the basket full to the brim with strawberries.

“I think I’ll make tarts tonight,” Sanji comments, and beside him, Zoro grins.


End file.
